


Blessed Are The Forgetful

by alliehamilt0n



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, In which Derek is not only a werewolf but also a time traveller, M/M, Romance, Smut, Time Travel, and things just never go right, at some point smut anyway, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-10
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliehamilt0n/pseuds/alliehamilt0n
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek had just about managed to utter the words "I am the alpha now." before he had been torn away from his life and had to relive everything again. </p><p>This time things will go differently. He'll make sure of it.</p><p>-not abandoned but currently at a serious standstill? will update when i know what is actually going to happen myself.-</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

The first time it happens he’s twenty-four. He blacks out and when he comes to it’s no longer night. Not that it would make any difference. His eyes work just fine in the dark. His heightened senses allow him to see even when there is only a minimal source of light. But right now Derek is sitting up in his bed. And that’s strange because he hasn’t slept in it in over eight years.

Squeezing his eyes shut he sinks back into the pillows, trying to get the low thud-thud of his head to stop. It’s not often that he gets headaches. In fact it’s so rare that when he does, it bothers him more than it would any other human. It’s not that he isn’t used to pain, because he’s been thrown around so often that he’s lost count, but a headache always seems worse than anything else. It’s almost as if he can handle being shot with a bullet laced with wolfsbane, but the light pressure on his temples, that’s just too much. Because a headache usually never means anything good. It’s a warning. It’s saying ‘shit’s about to hit the fan’. And, just for a second, Derek would like to ignore that nagging feeling that something has gone absolutely, terribly wrong. Because that’s just his life. The second he manages to claw out his uncle’s throat and become Alpha - that’s when everything goes wrong. 

The worst part is he knows he shouldn’t have done it. The smart thing would have been to let Scott kill Peter on the off chance that it would have provided a cure. But for all Derek knows those are just rumors and the thought that Scott would be his alpha was just a little too much. 

That and the fact that it felt right. And isn’t that just one of the worst things anyone could ever think? It felt right. Killing someone you once thought was family and someone that would protect you. Derek was desperate to believe in Peter. Even once he found out the truth about Laura and her death. However, no matter how he twists and turns it, Peter had to die. 

If only for the satisfaction it brought Derek for that nano second. That moment where he felt like he had done right by Laura and everyone else in his family. The thing was that it literally only lasted the fraction of a second. Because the second he had killed Peter he felt...different. Empty, even. But most of all he felt like an alpha. Derek never wanted to be alpha. 

Despite what everyone thought about him, he hadn’t been raised in a leather jacket. The frown hadn’t been something he’d been born with. Because in a way Derek was the pup of the family. The youngest, most naive. A young werewolf, forced to grow up too soon.  

His eyes are still screwed shut and he recalls more of the night. The protest from Scott as he lifts his hand and brings it down within a matter of moments. His nails turning into claws, knowing his face portrays each and every emotion in that moment. There is nothing sure about the way he brings his hand down, claws slicing through Peter’s throat. 

He can hear Scott letting out a defeated breath, at the thought that his one chance of a cure has been lost. He can hear the way Allison shifts and turns her head towards her father’s chest and buries it there, because despite the fact that she is strong and has been through a lot, it’s just a little too much to handle. There’s the way he can hear Stiles swallow, the sound dominating almost everything; the heavy way he inhales through his nose and swallows hard. 

But most of all, he feels different immediately. More powerful. Stronger, of course. But also more dangerous and more vulnerable all at once. There’s a heat inside of him as he gets up and turns to the others; a heat that begins to consume him.  

_“I am the alpha now.”_

*

He hears footsteps now, coming up the stairs. It’s a rhythm he thought he had forgotten. Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. Two fast, three slow steps up the stairs. The door to his room is thrown open and he’s positive he’s dreaming now. Because Laura is there, looking at him in an accusing manner with one hand on her hip.

Derek refuses to get up, or even sit up, but he twists his head to the side as he looks at her from under the covers.

“What?” Derek finally manages to say. 

The second the word is out he wants to take it back. Because saying ‘what’, after not having seen his sister in over a year is not what he wants to be saying. Not that she knows that. It’s his dream, after all, and the Laura in front of him is only eighteen years old. Or at least she looks like her eighteen year old self. 

“What?” she echoes back as if she can’t believe him, “Mom told you about half an hour ago that you should get up. If you’re not dressed and downstairs in about fifteen minutes I am going to leave without you. You can run to school.” she adds with a slight smirk on her face as she turns on her heel and runs back down the stairs. Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. The same rhythm. 

Part of him wants to stay in bed. It’s warm and comfortable and he’s missed this bed. It’s just comforting in that way that it smells of home as he turns slightly to the side and runs his hands over the sheets. There’s still the tiny tear on the side that he put there as his claws had come out while he was sleeping, dreaming of death like it was something he didn’t face everyday. 

He inhales deeply through his nose before sitting up straight in his bed. Slowly his eyes are taking in his old bedroom. Everything is still exactly the way he remembers it. There’s a small pile of clothes on the floor where he had gotten undressed last night and not bothered to tidy up after himself. There are the posters on the wall. His desk has an assortment of things on it, ranging from school work to pens and post-its and a few photographs. 

None of which he’s really in but there’s the team photo from school, his head turned to the side so his eyes won’t flare. There’s one of his family, his parents and Laura and him from about a year ago. They all have their eyes closed and are wearing these wolf masks. They thought it was funny. Well, at least his parents had thought so. But Derek is fond of the photo and he hasn’t looked at it in so long. 

He’s pushing the covers back and sets his feet onto the floor, taking a few steps until he’s at the desk and picks up the frame. Everything about his movement feels off, like he’s too light and getting up and walking makes him dizzy. He’s trying to focus on the picture in his hands but really he can’t take his eyes off of his hands. Because they are a lot smaller than he remembers them. Softer, too. And that’s when he notices his wrist and his arms. Within moments he’s set the picture back down, not quite where he originally picked it up from and he’s walking into the en-suite bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror. His jaw goes slack as he takes himself in fully now, because that’s not him. 

Except it is. Sixteen year old Derek Hale is starring back at him, an expression on his face of pure and utter disbelief.

That’s just so like him. He becomes alpha, passes out, and in his comatose state he dreams about being sixteen years old again. Because that makes so much sense. Maybe he should just lie back into bed and fall back asleep again and when he wakes up he’ll find himself back in the woods outside the burnt house of his adolescence. His uncle will still be dead, he will still be the new alpha and everyone will either want to kill him or... well, really, that’s all there is to it right now. There are a lot of people who want him dead. 

The other option is to go along with it. Keep dreaming. His hand reaches out for his tooth brush and paste and without knowing when this will stop Derek falls right back into the routine he had back then. When things were not so fucked up. 

Without really thinking about it he actually manages to be ready in under ten minutes and he’s walking down the stairs. His hands are trailing the banister of the staircase, having almost forgotten what nice mahogany it used to be. The smell of food wafts into his direction and his stomach lets out a growl. It’s telling him that food needs to be consumed. Stat. 

His feet move on their own accord and he founds himself in the kitchen, his sister reading a section of the newspaper while his father has the other half. They used to do that a lot. Share the newspaper. But only once Laura was older and thought that the news were actually important and not completely boring. At sixteen, Derek had still preferred the comic section the most. Garfield sort of got him, with his hate for Mondays and love for lasagna. Politicians, on the other hand, he’d never understand. And he wasn’t going to try any time soon. His gaze drifts from Laura, who just snagged herself another piece of toast, to his father. Derek can’t see him, because most of his face is obscured by the news paper, but he can see his big, strong hands on either side of it, sometimes letting go one side to pick up a cup of coffee. 

And that’s when his heart stops because all of a sudden all he can focus on is the woman standing behind the counter of the kitchen island. Derek is pretty sure that she’s been talking to him for about a minute already but everything has gone kind of mute and there’s a growing rushing sound resounding in his ears. He blinks. Once, twice. 

“What?” Derek asks again, because it seems to be the only thing he seems to be able to say this morning. 

“I asked you if you’d like some breakfast, honey” his mother asks him, a concerned look on her face as she takes in her youngest son.  

“He’s been like this all morning. I think he sneaked out last night again, you know? With the Argent girl” Laura says and there’s that smirk on her face again. Derek can twist it any way he wants it, because he knows his sister is dead, but right now he wants to push her off her chair. Always ratting him out. 

That’s the moment his father finally lowers the paper and gives him a stern look. “I thought we talked about this, Derek. No more staying out after curfew. I don’t care how amazing this girl is.” 

Derek manages to scoff, mostly at his sixteen year old self, because he knows better now. Now he knows that Kate isn’t actually amazing. All she is, is manipulative. And cold hearted. And a psychopath. He shakes his head and moves towards the island, sitting down on a stool.

“Trust me, she isn’t all that” he says instead, because it seems easier. There’s no need to bring up everything he already knows because this is a dream, right? Kate is dead. Peter is dead. Laura, his father and his mother. They are all dead. Derek is the only Hale left but right now he’s dreaming, he’s sixteen and his mother is holding a pan in one hand looking at him expectantly. 

So he smiles and nods. “Yeah breakfast sounds great. Thank you, mom.” 

She piles some pancakes onto his plate and he just can’t stop looking at her. Derek had forgotten how beautiful she was. In that way that a son looks at his mother and knows she’s beautiful and there really are no other arguments. “I love you” he adds, because really, when does he ever get the chance to say something like that these days. The words almost sound foreign coming from him, but they are there. They feel like something from a distant life despite how good it feels to say them, to be able to tell his mom that he loves her. 

Picking up his fork and knife he looks around at everyone looking at him. Laura quirks an eyebrow, before she gives a slight shrug and resumes reading the paper. 

Breakfast is over quickly. Much too soon than Derek would have liked. Laura already has her bag hitched over her shoulder and the newspaper folded in her other hand. Apparently she’s not done with it and needs to continue reading it at school. Derek is pretty sure that the only reason she gets away with it, is because she’s already pretty popular and no matter how much she geeks out nothing is going to change that. Especially not in her senior year. 

Derek can’t help himself, he needs to kiss his mother goodbye before he leaves and thanks her again for breakfast. He notices his parents exchange a look at that but he really can’t bring himself to care at that moment. It’s a moment he cherishes.  

Laura walks towards the black Camero, and Derek is half expecting her to throw him the keys, but then he remembers that he’s sixteen and while technically he could drive, the car still belongs to Laura, not him. 

“What is up with you this morning” Laura asks him as she sticks the key into the ignition and pulls the seat belt over herself. She glances at her younger brother for a second before pulling off onto the main road, on the way to school. 

Derek just shrugs slightly as he watches the house disappear in the review mirror. God it’s been a long time since he’s seen it look like that; pristine white and whole.

The newspaper is folded up on the dashboard and Derek grabs it, hoping that Laura got the section with the cartoons in it and not the boring parts (and since when did Derek actually _become_ sixteen, he doesn’t know). With a sign he scans he headlines, stopping at the date. 

“Laura. Stop the car. Turn around.” Derek demands, his voice panicky. He swallows hard and he can feel his head starting to hurt again as he presses the heels of his palms against the sides of his forehead. All of a sudden he feels sick, he’s going to be _sick._

“What are you talking about? We’re going to be late for school. Don’t even think you can pull a sick day. No one is going to buy it, especially not dad” Laura tells him as she’s pulling up to the school. 

But Derek feels sick to the stomach, so technically he wouldn’t even be faking. “Laura turn the fucking car around and drive back home. We need to go home. _Now._ ” Derek says through gritted teeth, louder and rougher than before. If memory serves him correctly, he’s pretty sure this is the first time Laura has ever heard him say ‘fuck’. 

His hand reaches out towards the wheel and Laura simply slaps his hand away, looking at him sharply for both his words and actions.  “Okay. Why are you acting crazy?” 

Her voice is way too calm and Derek doesn’t know how to get the message across that his dream has turned into a nightmare. He squeezes his eyes shut and rocks slightly forwards and backwards. This would be the perfect time to wake up again, to smell the damp soil underneath him. Derek would happily take the humiliation of having fainted over having to go through this again. 

“Can you please just drive back home?” Derek pleads, and he is looking at her in a way that’s so needy, so pathetic, he’s sure, that Laura starts the car again with a sigh and turns around and drives back the way they came. 

He can see the smoke before they even turn down the dirt road leading to their house. The stink of it is overwhelming and both of them scramble out of the car, running towards the house and trying to pull people out. 

The fire is everywhere. It’s too hot and Derek can feel it trying to catch onto his jeans. He throws himself onto the ground, getting rid of the flames. There’s a pair of hands, reaching out and without thinking about it Derek leaps forward and grabs them and pulls with all that he has, finally pulling a body out of the burning building. 

Stumbling backwards he falls onto the ground again, his face already covered in soot and ash. Somewhere far off he can hear sirens but he knows that it doesn’t matter. What’s the point? They are too late. Again.  

He turns his head slightly in the dirt and looks at the body he’s pulled out and pale blue eyes stare back at him. His heart flips as he looks at Peter, realizing that he had just pulled out the man out of a fire he will just end up killing eight years later. It’s a little sickening. It’s also a little comforting. Mostly, it’s very confusing. 

Derek scrambles up as he hears the fire truck pulling in and he’s looking around in a panic. He can see Laura, who’s standing there almost unable to move. Mentally, he knows that he’s the older one of the two right now, so he moves over to her and stands there. What he really wants to do is wrap his arms around her and tell her it’s going to be okay, but even without her werewolf senses she should know that that’s a lie. Things are never going to be ‘okay’, not again. 

Instead he presses himself against her side, because they need to be close right now. They stand there together, watching as the flames are being extinguished. The heat is still overwhelming but Derek doesn’t really care. It’s weird seeing it like this. The last time he had been in history learning about some civil war. This feels more real. As if there is no doubt that his whole family, his whole pack, safe for Peter and Laura have all just been burnt alive.  

Without knowing why his chin lifts slightly and he looks to his left into the woods. Despite the smell of smoke he can sense her. Her scent seems everywhere all of a sudden. It’s almost overwhelming. His eyes narrow as he stares her down. 

Kate Argent is standing just about fifty feet away from the house. Now that he knows Derek wants to rip her throat out right here and right now. But there are too many witnesses. Her eyes tear themselves away from the house and land on Derek and he can see even from here that the corners of her lips lift up slightly into a smirk.  A man steps up behind her and puts a hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze as if he’s saying ‘You’ve done good, kid’. 

Gritting his teeth he looks away from Kate and down at his arm, watching as a huge burn that stretches across his forearm is slowly healing, the skin looking as good as new. It stings slightly, and that’s when he realizes he doesn’t need to ask someone to pinch him to see whether he’s awake. 

This kind of pain is too real, too tangible, to be anything but reality.  

Derek isn’t quite sure how or why he’s managed to go back eight years. He doesn’t know why he couldn’t manage to safe his family either. But he does know that things are going to be different this time around. 

Starting tomorrow. When he’ll rip apart sixteen year old Kate Argent. 


	2. Chapter Two

Technically Derek knew this was going to happen. The fire, that is, not the whole ‘travel back and watch it happen all over again’ thing. There had been a moment, even though it had only lasted for a very short time, where he had seen the date on the top of the newspaper and figured that maybe, just maybe he could make it back in time, get everyone out of the house, and have changed the past.

At the same time, he knows it doesn’t work that way. He’s seen the movies. You cannot change your past because it changes your whole future and everything is in this fine balance that probably shouldn’t be touched.  

Not that he cares. He’s utterly indifferent to the fact that each and every move he does should just be what he did back then, eight years ago, but as he looks at the ruins in front of him he can taste bile in the back his throat. 

Out of the corner of his eyes he can see Kate Argent and her father turn away from the scene and they are walking away satisfied. 

Of course he could take satisfaction in the fact that she’s dead in the future. That she paid for her crimes. In comparison though, it doesn’t seem enough. 

Derek turns his head slightly and he notices the tears running down Laura’s cheeks. There’s a clear line running down her face cutting through both the soot as well as the little make up she had been wearing. It’s not ugly crying. It’s not loud or messy; it’s just there and it makes Derek’s heart clench in a painful way. 

It’s as if she’s already accepted it. The fact that everyone but them is gone, and even though Derek should be the one who should have made peace with it, he can’t. 

Because he only just buried Laura not too long ago. He only just found out that Kate has been responsible for all of this. Sixteen year old Derek isn’t meant to know any of this. 

It’s unclear how long they’ve been standing there. It could have been only ten minutes or it could have been an hour, but the fire is finally out and the ground is soaked. 

A hand is placed on his shoulder and he tenses up, wanting to wolf out immediately at the thought of another threat. 

“Come on, son. Let’s get you somewhere else,” a man says behind him and both he and Laura turn around, and Derek knows him because he spends more than enough time either running from him or being locked up in a cell in the future. Sheriff Stilinski looks very different. A lot younger, of course, but there’s other things as well; things that Derek can’t quite put his finger on. 

The two of them follow him silently towards the police car and despite the situation, the corner of Derek’s lips twitch. If only the other two knew how often he’s been in the back of that car.  

Somewhere towards his left he can see his uncle being put into the ambulance, the paramedics trying to be as careful as they can, after all he’s burnt all over. 

Sheriff Stilinski notices him looking over there and gives him a sad smile, “That was a very brave thing you did, Derek. Pulling him out of the fire.” 

Derek wants to tell him that he would have much rather just let him burn to death, because at least that would assure that he will never have to bury part of Laura in the back yard, but that can wait because realistically he’s got about another seven to eight years until he really has to kill Peter. He doubts that this kind of psycho can be talked out of him over the next couple of years. 

Instead he just gives him a nod and slides into the back of the car, Laura right next to him. Neither of them have said anything to each other yet and Derek hopes that everyone just assumes that he’s under some state of shock. It wouldn’t be entirely unreasonable to assume. 

Twisting in his seat he turns around and looks at the house again. It looks just as bad as he remembers it. He’s been living in the ruins for the last couple of months but there’s a new ache to it. Seeing it happen all over again didn’t make it any less painful, in fact it might just be worse, because this time he knew better and he couldn’t do anything about it. 

He’s glad he told his mom that he loved her. Last time around he hadn’t gotten the chance to do that and it had always pained him, so there is that at least.

* * * * * 

The station is one of those things that doesn’t seem to change at all over the years. It’s as if the officers who work there are creatures of habit. Things like the coffee pot are still in the same place they are going to be eight years later. 

It’s nice that some things don’t change, but at the same time it’s kind of unsettling too. 

Both he and Laura are sat down in a room with a table, several chairs and nothing else in it. It’s a sterile atmosphere and there is nothing personal anywhere. Not even those ‘things you should know’ posters on the wall. 

It’s almost been an hour now since the two of them had arrived back at the house trying to pull out bodies. An hour since either of them had said anything other than Laura screaming for their parents as she tried to dive into the flames. 

Derek sits there rigid, afraid to touch anything, afraid to speak. All he does is stare at the table in front of them. 

He can smell the hot chocolate before the door even opens. Even without his heightened sense of smell he would have detected it, and even then he would have known it was coming. Memories of what happened last time are flooding back. When he was sixteen he had tried to push almost everything away, except this he remembers. 

A woman is opening the door a fraction and pokes her head in, a sad smile on her face as she takes in the two of them. Practically orphans, except Laura is now eighteen and technically an adult who doesn’t need anyone to take care of her. 

Derek studies her face, noting that she’s pretty. There is a certain warmth in her face, something that his mother had as well. He stops at her eyes. They are brown, and his first thought is that in the right light they’d probably look like molten gold. Because he knows these eyes, could pick them out of any crowd. 

“I thought you two might like something hot to drink. I find hot chocolate helps in these situations,” she tells them as she puts two cups of steaming hot chocolate down in front of them.

“These situations? How would you know what it’s like to be in this kind of situation?” Derek asks her, and he knows his voice is too sharp, and too accusing. He knows that she is only trying to be nice and didn’t mean anything by it. He regrets the words the second they are out of his mouth but he couldn’t help himself. It was exactly what he had said eight years ago. Some things never change. 

“Derek,” is all Laura manages to say, but her tone is sharp, much like his mothers would have been right now. He ducks his head and picks up the cup, wrapping his hands around it. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” Derek apologizes and lifts the cup up slightly, bringing it up to his lips and taking a sip. Eight years ago, he didn’t drink it. Eight years ago, he had remained stubborn and refused to apologize, refused to drink the hot chocolate. But now he knows that this woman only has a few more years to live and that kind of puts things into perspective. 

Everyone’s dying. 

She throws them another small smile and nods slightly as if she understands. “That’s quite alright, honey. My husband will be with you in a moment,” she says, and ducks out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her.  

* * * * * 

Time seems to drag in this place. Everyone seems to be running around frantically and yet nothing seems to get done. No one knows who’s responsible or what even caused the fire. No one knows whether Peter will live. No one quite knows what to do with Laura and Derek. 

Except for Derek. Derek knows all of these things. 

The sheriff asks him to wait outside for a little while so he can talk to Laura, and once again Derek doesn’t need his super hearing to know what is being discussed in the room. The two of them are going to get financial help and will be put up in an apartment where Laura is going to finish her senior year. After that they’re going to see what is going to happen, but Derek knows she is going to force him to finish high school as well, and then they’re off to New York until he has to return to Beacon Hills to bury his sister. 

Except this time maybe he won’t have to. At some point he’ll kill Peter. Not today or tomorrow or even this week. There is a certain kind of exhaustion washing over him and he doesn’t quite know whether he should just stretch out on a few chairs and sleep or slump down in the one he’s currently sitting in. 

* * * * * 

There’s the eerie feeling that Derek gets when he feels like someone is watching him. It’s something that comes naturally with his senses. Tensing slightly, he sits up straighter and turns his head, looking at a little boy who’s holding a Batman figure. 

The boy’s eyes go wide as he takes in Derek but instead of turning around and running away he gets closer, a curiosity in the way he’s looking at Derek that won’t go away, even eight years later. 

“Go away,” Derek manages to say, his voice low and threatening. He can’t really be dealing with this. It seems like too much in one day. Technically he only became the new alpha about sixteen hours ago. 

“I’m not scared of you,” the boy tells him and there’s a certain kind of defiance as he says so, sticking out his chin slightly and trying to make himself look bigger and taller. 

If it wasn’t all so bizarre Derek might have laughed at that. Maybe he would have bared his teeth and pretended to snap at him, just so he could watch Stiles scramble backwards and admit that maybe he was. 

Right now though, Stiles’ heart beat is fairly even, even for a nine year old. 

It’s unnerving the way Stiles is looking at him. Like he can see right through Derek and already knows his deepest and darkest secrets. 

The fact is that Derek doesn’t really remember this. He’s pretty sure that last time around he had not talked to nine year-old Stiles and he’s unsure of what to do. There is no way of knowing what sixteen year old Derek would have said right now. But then again sixteen year old Derek had refused the hot chocolate and had not apologized afterwards. 

“Stiles!” a woman calls out, and there she is again, coming around the corner and looking for her son. 

“I wasn’t doing anything! I didn’t do anything bad,” Stiles defends himself immediately, because he knows he’s in trouble and he probably wasn’t allowed to come and talk to Derek. It’s best to leave the newly orphaned boy alone. 

His eyes go wide and he looks like he’s about to cry, and honestly? That’s not something that Derek wants to see right now. Everything else is too much to handle, seeing nine year old Stiles cry would be too much. 

“He isn’t bothering me,” Derek says quickly, because he’s had a couple of months to get used to how annoying Stiles can be, and he figures that he can’t have been much worse at nine than he is at seventeen. At least Stiles’ chin stops wobbling and his heart rate is calming down and now he’s grinning at Derek. 

“Do you like Batman?” he asks him, his voice filled with excitement. Without hesitation he’s off again, running towards the front of the station.  

His mother sighs and looks after him. “If he gets too much, let me know. He’s a bit of a hand full,” she says and shakes her head, even though there is a certain fondness in the way she does it. Derek simply nods, because his throat feels awfully tight at the thought that both he and Stiles don’t have mothers who look at them like that anymore. At least not in the future. It’s terribly unfair. 

But he doesn’t really have to say anything else because Stiles is already running back into the waiting area and now his Batman figure is joined by a Robin figure. For a moment Stiles holds both of the figures up and his forehead crinkles as if he’s in deep thought. 

In the end he holds out the Batman figure for Derek to take, probably because being Batman is an honour and because, in his own way, Stiles is trying to cheer Derek up. So now he gets to be Batman while Stiles is taking the Robin figure and sits down on the chair next to Derek who twists slightly to look at him. 

“One day I’m going to be a super hero and rescue people,” Stiles tells him in earnest and Derek can’t help but smile. Nine year old Stiles is kind of cute. Maybe if he ever time travels again he’ll get to see five year old Stiles as well, or baby Stiles. Who knows? 

The two of them play for a while and Derek has to manage to get over his initial feeling of finding this extremely awkward. Not only would he have felt stupid had he done this at sixteen, sitting here with a nine year old pretending to play with Batman and Robin figures, but he’s twenty-four, and he’s pretty much sitting here playing with dolls. It’s almost funny. The big bad alpha sitting here pretending to save Gotham City, which currently is nothing but chairs and a few boxes which have been turned upside down. It’s really all down to the imagination. 

* * * * * 

That’s how Laura finds him. Sitting on the floor with Stiles who’s pretending that Robin has all of a sudden touched something radio active and now has a super power. 

She clears her throat and Derek looks up at her. He’s never seen her look so rough. Even when he had buried her, she had looked more together than this. Which is ironic because she had been severed in two. 

But right now her hair is sticking out in every direction and it is obvious that after he’d been asked to leave the room she hadn’t stopped crying. Right now though her face is free of all the soot, there’s no more make up and Derek is pretty sure she’s gone to the rest room to just wash everything off. With her face bare like this she looks unbelievably young to him. 

He’s expecting her to tell them that they are going to buy a few things at the local supermarket like a few shirts and a pair of jeans, as well as everything else they might need to stay at a hotel for a couple of days. It’s what happened last time. He even remembers how a few people thought it was really cool that he got to live in a hotel with his sister and no parental supervision. Derek thought these people deserved to be torn to shreds. 

“C’mon. The sheriff and his wife have invited us for dinner,” Laura tells him, and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. Because that’s new too. 

How much could Derek have changed really by simply apologizing and drinking that damn hot chocolate? 

“Alright,” is all that Derek can reply, because really what else is there to say? It’s not like he’s going to turn down a warm meal. 

* * * * * 

The ride to the Stilinski residence is uncomfortable. They all manage to squeeze into the car, Stiles in between Laura and Derek, as they ride over, and as often as Derek has told Stiles to shut up in the past (or the future, it all seems relative), right now he’s glad that he won’t stop talking. There is no awkward silence because Stiles won’t let there be any. 

They pile out of the car and everyone hovers for a while, except for Stiles who’s running towards the front door, as excited as if it was Christmas Eve. 

“C’mon Derek! I’ll show you my room,” he says, rattling the front door, impatient to finally get in. It’s almost cute that he’s taken a fondness to Derek, and if he ever manages to travel back to the future, where he belongs, he will never stop teasing Stiles about this moment. 

It’s his mom who finally unlocks the door and Stiles is already running up the stairs towards his room, but Derek hesitates. All of a sudden he’s just all too aware that he is still covered in soot and ash, despite the little wash he had earlier at the police station. 

“Go on up, dear,” Stiles’ mom tells him and makes a motion, shooing him up the stairs. “I’ll bring you some clothes to change into and you can have a shower. You too,” she says to Laura as she turns to her with a smile. “Once you’re all clean and changed, dinner will be on the table.” 

* * * * * 

Stiles’ room is more or less the same. The bed has different bedding on it and there are different posters on his walls and the floor is now covered in various toys. But otherwise Derek knows every corner of it. After all, he’s hidden in the shadows enough times to get to know his room fairly well. 

It’s weird now. Because Stiles is running around picking up various things and then dropping them again when he gets a new idea and Derek realizes that the Stiles he has to deal with these days is actually a lot less hyper active than he was when he was nine. 

He’s not sure what to do with himself, because his clothes are filthy and he can’t exactly sit down on the bed. So he hovers there like he’s done more than once and looks at all the toys that are covering the floor. 

The smell of food is starting to waft upstairs and there’s a slight growl in his stomach as he realizes that other than the pancakes that morning he hasn’t been able to eat anything else. 

It smells good and for some reason the smell seems familiar. Stiles stops doing whatever he was doing just a second ago and lifts his nose into the air and sniffs it as well. “Oh!” he says with a grin on his face “Mom is making her lasagne.” 

So that’s how Derek knows the smell. Because even eight years later, Stiles makes the same lasagne his mother is making tonight. It’s quite impressive that he’s gets the recipe right, but his mother probably left it somewhere downstairs. 

There’s a soft knock on the door and the sheriff is standing in the frame, a pair of jeans and a t-shirt folded in his hands. 

“Stiles. You’re meant to be doing your homework, not playing around,” his dad tells him, but his voice is soft and not at all stern as he tells him off. He turns to look at Derek and holds out the clothes. “I’ll show you to the bathroom. You’ll want to get out of those clothes, I’m sure,” he tells Derek and he manages to nod and take the clothes, following the sheriff out of Stiles’ room and into the bathroom where he locks the door and stands there for a moment. 

He’s tired. God, he’s so tired. It takes longer than usual for Derek to peel himself out of his clothes and the hot stream of water that is pouring down onto him feels like Heaven. He watches as the dirt starts to wash off of him and goes down the drain, but he has to repeat his routine once more until the water runs clear. 

* * * * * 

If the ride in the car over was weird, it’s nothing compared to dinner. It’s meant to feel normal but everything about it seems off. Laura has also showered and changed into what he assumes are Mrs Stilinski’s clothes. 

Stiles happily rambles on about things that have happened at school and he’s currently telling everyone how he and Scott are planning on having a video game marathon. 

It makes Derek think about how Scott will probably never be a werewolf once he’s killed Peter. How he’ll technically not see Stiles again after tonight for many years, because there is no reason for Laura and him to return once they leave for New York. 

Scraping up some lasagne with his fork he realizes that he’ll probably miss Stiles, but it’s not like he’d ever admit that out loud.

Once dinner is over everyone moves into the living room, and apparently without anyone having asked Derek, it’s been decided that he and Laura will spend a couple of nights here until something more permanent is sorted out. 

His phone buzzes and he pulls it out with a frown. He’s forgotten that he ever owned this phone. It’s almost a brick compared to what they manufacture in 2012. 

Unlocking the screen, his eyes narrow at the message.

_“Poor little pup. Is there anything I can do? Want me to kiss it better?”_

It’s from Kate and Derek is glad that she isn’t pretending that everything is fine between them. She knows that he saw her back at the house when the fire was still blazing. 

For now, he’s going to ignore the message. 

Laura is looking at him, questioning who the text was from but he simply shrugs, hoping she’ll let it go. He’s pretty sure that she won’t be okay with her younger brother seeking revenge on the girl he claimed to be in love with just twenty-four hours ago. 

* * * * * 

The headache is still there. It’s hardly noticeable but it didn’t stop all day long. Mrs Stilinski excused herself after dinner to get the guest bedrooms ready.   
  
Both he and Laura insisted that they helped with washing up after dinner, because it seemed like a better option rather than to just sit around and think about the rest of the day. Or the days to come.   
  
There’s a pair of pyjamas on Derek’s bed when he goes up to the room that has been assigned to him and he’s so tired that he just strips out of the jeans and shirt and into the flannel.   
  
Only when his head hits the pillow and he notices something digging into his side does he shift slightly to pull out whatever had been poking him in the ribs.   
  
It’s the Batman figure and there’s a small note attached to it. The handwriting is messy and a few words have been crossed out with pen several times. But the message reads:   
  
 _“Just for tonight. Maybe.”_  
  
And that’s how Derek falls asleep. A twenty-four year old man in his sixteen year old body, clutching a toy given to him by a nine year old Stiles. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Ryan for Beta-ing for this chapter. And a belated thanks to Pheebs for Beta-ing the last chapter. 
> 
> Comments are more than welcome, as are suggestions and such. If there are grammatical errors I am terribly sorry (english isn't my first language).


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Derek is a terrible babysitter, even though he thinks he's great.

Derek is rarely ever startled, but he wakes up dazed and confused the next morning when there’s a soft knock on the door. 

It’s Laura and she’s standing there unsure of what to do, but she slips into the room, closes the door behind her and hovers, but only for a second and within a few steps she flies across the room and wraps Derek into her arms and lets out a small sob again. 

All he can do is hug back, even though he can hardly breathe because Laura is squeezing him so tightly. 

She finally pulls back and wipes her tears away harshly with the back of her hand and Derek can only sit there and look at his sister. Realizing his eyes are kind of wet as well he lifts a hand and wipes away the stray tear. This is the first time he’s cried about his parents’ death in a couple of years but it’s hard seeing Laura like this. Of course the pain is still fresh for her. It just happened after all. 

Laura inhales, shakily and tries to smile at him. It’s all a bit too much for her. She’s just turned eighteen a few months ago, she’s a senior, her parents just died and to top it all off she’s now responsible for her sixteen year old brother. Not to forget the fact that she’s now the alpha.  

There’s an obvious shift between them. It’s instinctual but Derek can feel it in the air. It’s the same way he had felt towards his father. It didn’t change their relationship however. They were, after all, still father and son, and loved one another. It’s just that there is the fact that Derek now wants to submit to Laura. That he recognizes her as his superior. 

“What’s it like?” Derek asks her and his voice comes out ridiculously small.  

Laura doesn’t even have to ask what he is talking about, because she knows and she tugs a few strands of hair behind her ears and sighs. “Weird. Really, really weird. I don’t really like it,” she admits and tilts her head slightly towards the side, taking in Derek’s face. 

They sit there in silence for a few moments before there’s another knock on the door and Mrs Stilinski pops her head in and smiles at the two warmly. “There’s breakfast on the table if you two would like to join us,” she tells them and Laura nods for them and thanks her. 

The door closes again and Laura waits for a moment before she turns back to Derek, clearly having listened for when it was safe to talk again. “Sheriff Stilinski said he’ll help us get an apartment and financial aid where we can stay for now and…well I mean I am going to New York at the end of the summer. I don’t know what you want to do. Whether you want to stay or come with me…” she trails off and looks at Derek. 

There is nothing else to do but feel bad. Laura was hoping to go off to college and have a normal life for an eighteen year old. She wanted to party and let her hair down and just be away from home for a while. Between the two of them Laura was always the social one. She knew how to make friends. It was something she was really good at. Derek was always the one that was slightly more quiet and didn’t like to talk to people he didn’t know well. 

“I’d like to come with you,” Derek tells her, because this time he wants to go to New York and not return. If they stay in New York they’ll never come back and Peter can never kill Laura. Derek will never have to deal with burying his sister and living in that shell of a house. If they stay in New York there are a lot of things Derek will leave behind. 

As if on cue there is a loud clatter downstairs and Derek can hear the sheriff sighing and telling Stiles to step back and to be careful in case he cuts himself on the shards of the cup he’s just dropped and smashed. 

It’s weird to think about the fact that he won’t have any of the moments he’s had with Stiles and Scott in the future. 

Derek figures that the couple of months they’ll still spend in Beacon Hills will be enough to finish all of the plans he’d been making last night. No solid plans had formed, considering Derek was still too emotional. Too angry.  All he had managed to think about was that he needed to kill. It was as if his thoughts had been filled with nothing but pure, hot, white rage. Against Peter. Against Kate. Against this whole, fucked up situation. 

Getting up off of the bed Laura brushes off some invisible lint, as if she doesn’t know what else to do and nods at him. It’s almost like she’s disappointed that he decided to go with her to New York, but family is important to her too and she would never turn him away. Their parents would have wanted them to stick together anyway, so that’s that. 

“I’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast.”  

With that she’s out of the door and he can hear her walking down the stairs and greet everyone else there. 

It’s a bit awkward when Derek finally gets out of bed because he doesn’t know what to do. His bare feet walk across the room to put on the clothes from yesterday and for some reason it feels weird to just go downstairs like that, so he puts on his shoes as well. He thinks it over for a second before he moves forward and makes the bed, because he doesn’t want to put out the Stilinski’s even more and make them more work. Unsure of what to do with the Batman figure he sets it against the pillow so Stiles can just come and get it at some point during the day. 

* * * * * 

Everyone is already sitting around the kitchen table when Derek finally shows up. He tries to smile at them but it feels strange and foreign so he stops immediately and puts on a neutral facial expression.  

The only free space is next to Stiles and he notices the small band-aid around his index finger. He can even smell the blood even though Stiles probably stopped bleeding about ten minutes ago. 

“Nice Spiderman band-aid,” Derek comments as he looks at Stiles and the other one looks at him confused for a moment before he looks down at his hand and grins. Trust Stiles that he would be smiling over the fact that he’s gotten hurt and now had a comic book character plastered over his wounds. 

“Thank you. I have a whole box full upstairs.” Derek can’t help but smile at that, because Stiles actually sounds proud of his collection of Spiderman band-aids. 

The others around the table are all watching the exchange with interest. There’s an amused look on each of their faces until Sheriff Stilinski clears his throat and turns to look at Laura. 

  
“I have to go to work in a little bit, but Helen can take you to look at apartments later today,” he tells her as he bites into a piece of toast. 

Helen nods at that and then looks at Stiles and frowns slightly. “Scott is meant to come over later today and I promised Melissa that I was going to watch the two,” she says, as if she had just remembered, “I guess I’ll have to call her and cancel.” 

“I can watch them,” Derek says before he knows what he is doing. It wasn’t like he hadn’t basically baby-sat Scott and Stiles more than once. It was a bit ridiculous really and he should have asked both the sheriff as well as Scott’s mother to pay him for his excellent babysitter services. After all, so far he had made sure that neither of them had ended up dead yet. Not many babysitters could put that on their resume. 

Once again the rest of them look at him in surprise and Helen finally nods slowly. “If you’re sure,” she says, her coffee cup hovering in the air, as if she’s forgotten she was meant to take a sip from it. 

“I’m sure.” 

* * * * * 

“Do that again!” nine year old Scott says as he looks up at Derek with the utmost admiration. 

The three of them have been in the Stilinski’s garden for the last half an hour and Derek had been at a serious loss of how to entertain the two. In his family he had been the youngest so really he had no idea how to deal with kids. Not that dealing with seventeen year old Scott and Stiles was any easier. At least this way they were impressed by everything Derek did instead of freaked out and scared. 

Derek moves forward and pulls out the sharpest knife he had found in the kitchen out of a tree and flips it into the air, watching it rotate twice, before he catches it easily in his hand again. 

That move alone has the two young boys convinced that Derek is nothing short of being a ninja. 

Raising his eyebrows, he looks serious at the two of them. 

“What are the rules?” he asks, his voice authoritative. 

“Step backwards. Don’t touch the knives. Don’t do this ourselves,” the two say in perfect unison and slightly impatient because all they really want is for Derek to throw the knife again. 

“And?” Derek says slowly, dragging out the word. 

“No telling our parents,” the two add and grin at each other. Derek shakes his head as if he can’t believe he’s doing this, but it isn’t like he’s ruining them. Despite what Derek would have done with them, he knew from experience that neither Scott nor Stiles knew how to stay out of trouble. Especially Stiles, actually. So it isn’t like this is going to hurt them. 

Checking that both of them had taken at least two steps backwards, Derek raises the knife  slightly above his shoulder, holding it between his index finger and thumb at the blade. In a swift motion he throws the knife, flicking his wrist and watches as the knife goes straight into the tree, wobbling slightly there for a moment. 

Both young boys give excited murmurs as he turns to look back at them, the corner of his lips twitching. It’s nice that they are impressed. 

“I am going to be a ninja when I grow up,” Scott says as he stares at the knife, as if it holds all the answers. 

“Me too,” Stiles agrees with a definite nod. 

“I thought you were going to be a superhero?” Derek raises an eyebrow at him and looks down at Stiles who looks like the question in itself is ridiculous. 

“I do. I can be both. A superhero with ninja powers.” 

Scott nods as if that makes complete sense and Derek knows he is outnumbered. 

Straining his ears he can hear a car pulling up the drive way and pulls out the knife, quickly walking back towards the house. 

“Hurry. Someone’s home,” Derek tells the two younger boys and for some reason he can feel his heart pace picking up as he walks back into the house and puts the knife back where he found it. 

It’s silly. He is twenty four-years old, for crying out loud. Derek shouldn’t have to hide things from adults anymore. In his mind he is their equal. The way they view him, he is nothing but a sixteen year old boy who is still going through puberty and awkward years and has just lost his parents. In a way it’s relaxing, because he doesn’t have to worry at the moment and can just be. On the other hand it’s infuriating, because no one should be able to tell him what to do. 

The two boys hurry over to the sofa, as if they’ve been trained to pretend they’ve been playing video games all along, instead of doing things they shouldn’t have been. The console is turned on quickly and both of them sit on the floor in front of the screen, pressing buttons as if they’ve been playing all along. 

Clever. 

Derek notices he’s looking suspicious himself so he quickly throws himself on the sofa and picks up a magazine from the coffee table, flipping open a random page and looks towards the door. 

Helen walks in and looks towards the three of them, her gaze stopping at Derek, before she grins. “Read anything interesting?” she asks and nods at him. 

Finally looking down he realizes he has picked up an issue of ‘People!’ magazine. Not exactly what you’d imagine a sixteen year old boy to be reading about. He studies the pages he has randomly flipped open and shrugs slightly. 

  
“Nothing interesting. Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie have started filming a new film,” Derek says with a slight sigh and closes the magazine, putting it back on the coffee table. “I almost feel like that’s something I should prevent. I don’t know if I want a future where Brangelina is a thing.” 

“What’s a Brangelina?” Stiles asks him from his spot on the floor, without tearing his eyes away from the screen as he furiously presses the buttons on the controller. 

“A terrible, terrible thing,” Derek says with a slight shake of his head before he turns his focus back on Helen. 

“Where’s Laura?” Derek asks her, noticing that she isn’t with Helen, nor is she still out at the car. He would have heard her. 

Setting down her bag she gives him a quick smile. 

“She’s visiting your uncle at the hospital. Apparently his burns aren’t as bad as they initially thought. He’s very lucky that you pulled him out of the fire when you did,” Helen says moving towards the kitchen. “Would anyone like any snacks?” 

* * * * * 

It feels as if his heart plummets straight through his stomach and onto the floor. Within seconds he’s followed Helen into the kitchen and crowds her there against the counter. 

“What do you mean she’s at the hospital? Alone? Is anyone else there with her?” his voice comes out harsh and the words stumble over his lips as if there isn’t enough time to take a breath and sort out his questions. 

“Keys. I need your car keys. I need to go there right now,” Derek says, holding out his hand. Helen’s eyes widen slightly but she hands over the keys, her lips opening as if she is about to say something. Perhaps something soothing. Perhaps she’s a little scared of Derek right now. He can’t be sure and this just doesn’t seem like the right point to make sure that Helen is okay. Maybe later. Later he’ll apologize again. 

Derek runs out of the house, slamming the door behind him as he fumbles for the right key and gets into the car. He can feel several pairs of eyes looking at him from the windows as he pulls out of the drive way and speeds towards the hospital. 

* * * * * 

The car tires squeal as they come to an abrupt stop outside the hospital. Derek just about manages to rip out the keys of the ignition and storms through the doors, which open way too slowly for his liking. 

There is no time to ask which room Peter is in. Derek knows anyway. Not just because spent year after year coming to visit him, but also because there is the faint smell of burnt flesh, but it is far too faint for Peter to be covered in burn scars, like Derek imagined he would be.  

With quick strides, Derek stops in front of a room, the door slightly ajar. 

“Hello Derek,” Peter’s voice comes from inside the room, prompting Derek to push the door open, knowing there is no point in pretending he isn’t there. 

His heart is pounding out of his chest as he looks at his uncle, standing there looking just as well as he had before the fire. Swallowing harshly, Derek takes him in. It’s almost like a blast from the past. He never had a chance to see Peter before the fire this morning. The last time he saw him was when he slashed his throat. But now he’s standing here and he looks good, Derek can’t deny that. He’s a lot younger and it’s almost weird to see him look this young. In Derek’s mind Peter has always either been burnt or a fair bit older than him. He looks as old as Derek feels, give or take a couple of years. 

“I’d like to thank you, Derek,” Peter says, his voice smooth and pleasant. “I am sure I would have had quite a different fate if you hadn’t pulled me out of the house, and for that I am eternally grateful.” 

Derek’s nose twitches, the smell of burning flesh subsiding, being replaced by something else. 

“So I hope you’ll understand that I only did what I had to do,” he adds and smiles sadly at his nephew, his eyes all of a sudden flashing red. 

Taking another step forward into the room he turns his head slightly, seeing Laura lying on the floor, her throat slashed, lifeless eyes looking up at the ceiling. Letting out a choked sob he tears his gaze away from his sister’s dead body and looks back at Peter. 

“She was not fit to be the alpha,” his uncle tells him, as if it is any explanation at all. 

Torn between leaping forward, tearing out Peter’s throat and fainting, Derek chooses the latter, his world fading to black once again. 

* * * * * 

When he comes to he finds himself with another headache. The thud-thud in the back of his brain again and his hands fly up to massage the sides of his scalp. 

He’s still staring at the ceiling and all he can think is: ‘Not this again.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are more than welcome. you can find me on tumblr under the same username as well if you prefer that (anon is on). 
> 
> I am trying to get things such as time line as accurate as possible regarding age and such. If I ever make a mistake please let me know and I will figure out a way to rectify it. 
> 
> Thanks to Ryan for being my lovely Beta.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started writing this story I wanted to update daily but sadly life and work got into the way. I will try and update as often as I can! I hope you're still enjoying this story. Comments are love. Thanks to the lovely Phoebe for being my beta for this chapter.

The first thing Derek does, after he’s done freaking out, is sit up in bed and take a good look around. 

This is definitely not his childhood room, but it doesn’t look like his apartment in New York either, nor is it burned down so he’s not back at the Hale house where he started off. But there’s something familiar about it anyway, he just can’t quite put his finger on it. It’s as if he’s actually been in this room before, but everything has been rearranged and decorated. 

There’s a loud clatter downstairs and his head snaps towards the door. For some reason he hadn’t expected anyone else to be here. It’s not his parents, that’s for sure. He’s so familiar with the sounds they make that he could pick them out of a large crowd. It’s not even werewolves, because he can hear something smashing on the tiles and a small sigh. Craning his neck slightly, his nose twitches slightly as he inhales. Those are definitely humans downstairs. Not just humans but for some reason he’s back at the Stilinski’s. 

The weird part is that his own scent is all over this room. It’s older than just a day. The bed is standing on a different wall and there are posters on the wall, and in general it just feels more like it’s Derek’s room instead of a guest room. It looks like something he would have put together. 

All of a sudden the door is flying wide open and Stiles is standing in the doorway, except he’s no longer nine years old, nor is he seventeen. 

“Where is it?” he asks, his eyes shining with excitement as he looks around the room. 

“Where’s what?” Derek raises an eyebrow and looks back at Stiles. 

“My present. You said you’ve hidden it, but I know it must be in here.” Stiles is looking around and drops to the floor to look under the bed and Derek is almost amused, except he’s still not quite sure what is going on. 

“And why do you think I got you a present?” the question comes out mocking, because taking that tone of voice with Stiles comes easy. Also it’s easier to pretend he’s mocking him, rather than straight out admitting he has no idea what Stiles is on about. 

“Derek.” Stiles whines slightly as he looks at him “It’s my birthday, you know that.” 

Ah. Stiles’s birthday. Of course. 

“I dunno, you kind of look as scrawny and as little as always. How old are you meant to be again?” 

At that Stiles tries to make himself look taller, squaring his shoulder and sticking out his chin. “Twelve. I’m Twelve and it’s my birthday and you owe me a gift. You said you got me one.” 

As if on cue, Helen sticks her head through the door and smiles at the two of them, putting one hand on Stiles’s shoulder. “Sweetie, Derek will give you your present downstairs. Let’s have breakfast first, okay?” she says and winks at Derek who’s still sitting in bed, looking slightly perplexed. 

If Stiles is twelve that makes him either eighteen or nineteen. No, eighteen. Since today is Stiles’s birthday and Derek still has a few months to go until he hits nineteen. 

Stiles is gone within moments and Derek can hear him barreling down the stairs into the kitchen. 

“I hid your present along with the rest of ours. He makes it more difficult each and every year to keep the surprise a surprise.” Helen tells him shaking her head slightly. 

“C’mon sweetie. I made birthday pancakes this morning. Get dressed and come downstairs.” With that she leaves him to go back downstairs and prepare the rest of breakfast, and Derek is left to his own devices. 

He’s not quite sure how he ended up back here but from the way it looks he lives here now. None of this stuff is really his, of course, since everything Derek owned burned down in the fire. Squeezing his eyes shut he leans his head into his hands and tries to think. It’s easiest if he takes a few deep breaths and gets the facts straight. 

His name is Derek Hale. He’s a werewolf. He can apparently travel time and for some reason the last time he travelled he changed his reality in a way that he ended up living under the same roof as Stiles Stilinski. 

There’s a wave of nausea rushing over him as he tries to remember the last thing before he passed out and woke up in this bed. Laura. Laura is dead. There really are no two ways around it, Derek realizes, he pretty much killed her himself. If he hadn’t pulled Peter out of the fire he would have been able to ensure at least that Laura lives. Except she died again, this time seven years too early. 

He wonders what happened to Peter. Sure he can’t remember what happened because his vision faded to black and he woke up in a different year again, but in reality Derek must have done something. Maybe he killed Peter right there and then. For some reason though, Derek knows that’s not the case. He’d feel it. There would be the distinct feeling of being alpha, and Derek knows that if he looked in the mirror his eyes would still flash blue, not red. 

* * * * * 

There’s a banner hanging over the door frame when Derek enters the kitchen and everyone else is already seated around the table. He remembers back when he was younger and his family still made a big deal about his birthday. These days he can’t even remember what it’s like to have someone say ‘Happy Birthday’ to him. Although he figures that in this household he does get the whole shebang, banner, streamers and cake. The thought makes him smile. 

Derek wishes he knew how he ended up living here, because it looks like he is now part of the family. Granted it isn’t his family, but it’s a family nonetheless and it’s a hell of a lot better than being alone. 

Helen puts a plate of pancakes in front of him as well as putting a big stack in front of Stiles, a single birthday candle in the middle of it, which she lights. 

Both Helen and John start singing ‘Happy Birthday to you’ and Derek, without thinking about it, joins in. Stiles looks like he’s going to explode at any moment, because the excitement is too much, but once they’ve finished singing he blows out the candle and everyone digs into their food. 

* * * * * 

It’s a Saturday and John has taken the day off of work to spend with the family. Scott is going to come around later today and all of them are apparently going to take a two hour long drive towards the beach where they are going to have a birthday barbecue. Stiles is all kinds of excited. Derek is too, if he’s being honest. There’s something about the sea that pulls him in. It has something to do with the moon and the way it affects both the water and him. It’s kind of magical, except Derek would never tell someone that he feels that way about the beach and the sea. It’s just something he keeps to himself and it makes him feel a little more content than he usually is. Which isn’t very, most of the time. 

Presents are engaged and Stiles rips into it with so much enthusiasm that he knocks over his glass, which is thankfully empty. Derek just about catches it before it hits the floor and smashes into a million pieces and sets it back on the table, moving everything else away from Stiles in a safe distance. After a little while Stiles is hidden behind a small mountain of wrapping paper and a decent amount of presents. 

Derek got him a lacrosse stick and a few balls. Which was nice of him, he thinks to himself, considering he doesn’t really remember buying it. 

“I’ll take you and Scott out and teach you how to play. Wouldn’t want you to spend your entire high school life on the bench.” Derek tells him with a slight smirk on his lips, and Stiles’s eyes widen and he nods. 

“Yeah, no, that sounds good. You can teach me how to be so good that I can be like… captain of the lacrosse team, and then Lydia Martin will finally notice me.” 

“How long has she been ignoring you for now?” Derek asks him, knowing that Lydia Martin pretty much still ignores him completely. 

“Only five years. I have a definite six year plan to get her to fall in love with me.” Stiles says, and there is so much confidence in his voice, Derek doesn’t have it in him to tell him that he better change that six year plan into a ‘it will never happen’ plan. Except maybe if he’s captain of the lacrosse team, he does have a better chance. You never know, if werewolves exist than maybe Stiles Stilinski can win over Lydia Martin. 

There’s a knock on the door and Stiles runs up and almost trips and falls as he opens the door and greets Scott on the other side. They do that thing where both him and Scott just go ‘Dude’ until John finally puts an end to it and presses a few things into their hands, telling them to carry them out towards the car. 

Everyone is now given several things that they have to carry outside into the car and every time one of them places something in the car, Helen has to rearrange it because it all just wouldn’t quite fit otherwise. In the end, everything seems to be in the car and everyone piles in, Derek sitting in the back next to Scott and Stiles. 

The ride in itself is exhausting, and with Stiles being hyperactive as it is, it’s infinitely worse on his birthday. It’s a good thing he’s firmly strapped in, otherwise there’s a chance he could have caused an accident. Derek himself is happy to sit there and look out of the window, watching the scenery pass them by. Helen and John are quietly talking in the front and the radio is turned on, even though on a low volume, and Stiles is monopolizing most of the conversation with Scott. 

Derek’s headache has subsided and he finds himself drifting off. Before he knows it, his world fades to black. 

When he wakes up again, his neck hurts. He rolls it around but notices that he’s still in the car. He guesses he’s been out for quite a while, because when he looks around the car has been pulled over and everyone is piling out of it. 

It doesn’t take even a minute for Stiles and Scott to be at the water front, their jeans already soaked the second the first wave hits them. 

Getting out of the car, the first thing Derek does is stretch; his back arching, balling his fists like a playful kitten as he bats the air, pink tongue poking out as he yawns. 

He helps John and Helen carry everything down to the beach, even though he thinks it’s a bit ridiculous they brought so much stuff, when really, all they needed was the grill, the meat and a few paper plates. 

* * * * * 

Being part of the Stilinski family isn’t as weird as Derek thought it would be. At the end of the day they are just another family, full of love and laughter and everything that Derek didn’t realize he had been missing all these years. It makes him think about starting a pack, but the problem is that he’s not the alpha and he has no idea where Peter has disappeared to. 

Sitting down in the sand he watches the waves, the way they seem to be pulled back and forth, back and forth. It’s almost hypnotic and he finds himself drifting off every now and then, only to be pulled back into reality when Stiles and Scott collapse next to him, getting sand all over his jeans. 

He tries to growl at them, but doesn’t really see the point, only managing half a glare. Derek isn’t even sure if they know about him being a werewolf. Part of him assumes they do, after all it’s been almost three years that he’s been with them, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. 

Scott pulls out his inhaler, shaking it a few times before he brings it up to his mouth and presses down, inhaling deeply, his asthmatic breathing going more steady after a while. Even though Derek knows that Scott doesn’t want the bite, he sticks with what he told him a while ago. The bite is a gift. It had given Scott things he could have only ever dreamed about. 

* * * * * 

John asks Derek to help him with the barbecue, but all that really means is that he’s asking Derek to hand him plates and meat, and that most of the heavy work is done by John. It’s just how things are and Helen jokes that no one could ever get in between a man and his grill. 

“Have you decided if you’re going to go to college next year?” John asks him as he flips a burger, making sure it gets cooked evenly on both sides. 

Derek shrugs, because there’s nothing else to do. He doesn’t know if the Derek in his reality is going to go to college. He might as well. 

“I mean we know you were… hesitant to go this year,” John says, choosing his words carefully, “With everything that happened with Peter. But he’s assured us that you’ve got at least another seven years until he’ll show up again.” his voice wavers slightly as if he’s unsure at that statement, and Derek looks at John sharply. 

There is so much missing, so much information he doesn’t have, and he doesn’t know how to ask for it. 

“What exactly were the terms again?” He tries to keep his voice as light and as conversational as he possibly can. 

At this, John gives him a look and furrows his eyebrows, taking in Derek’s face. 

“The terms are that he stays out of Beacon Hills, you don’t follow him or try to kill him, and that when you turn twenty-five you’ll join his pack willingly.” John ticks off a finger with each point he makes, before picking up the spatula again and flipping over another burger. 

“Right. Those terms.” Derek gives him a tight nod, almost relieved at the fact that they know about werewolves and it isn’t something he needs to keep hidden. He wonders how it had come out. Had he sat them down reasonably and explained everything or had he shifted in front of them without being in control? It was hard to say what had happened without asking more questions that would make everything more awkward than it needed to be. Either way, Derek figures that he should just be grateful that both John and Helen decided to give him a place to stay, instead of kicking him out like a stray dog. 

* * * * * 

Even with his high metabolism and his wolf instincts kind of taking over when he eats, Derek knows he’s more than full at the end of the day. In fact this might be one of the first times he’s pretty sure that if someone presses his stomach, he’ll throw up from having over-eaten. 

Of course that’s the cue for Stiles to slam into him, asking him if he wants to come and play with a ball they dug out of the car. Derek rolls his eyes as Stiles throws the ball and says ‘Fetch, Derek!’, but all he does is push him off and shove him towards the direction of where he threw the ball. 

 

For now he’s too tired to even go and run off the food. He’s definitely had too many burgers. 

Stiles, Scott and John run off together, all chasing after the ball and Helen sits down next to Derek, nudging him slightly with her shoulder. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Her voice comes out softly. 

It’s only now that Derek realizes he’s been avoiding her almost all day. There’s a faint smell of death and he looks at her, and before he knows it there are tears prickling in his eyes. 

“I’m afraid my thoughts aren’t worth much,” he tells her and his voice is choked up slightly as he takes her in. 

She’s still as beautiful as she was the first time he saw her, when she brought him and Laura hot chocolate. Derek’s glad he apologized this time around. It’s one of the few things that have changed that he’s truly glad about. 

There’s so much of her in Stiles, Derek realizes now, and it almost kills him to think about the fact that she’s dying. Before now he never knew of what, but she’s sitting next to him and he can smell the cancer on her. She hasn’t had it for a long time, but the scent mixes in with the salt from the sea and all of a sudden it’s overwhelming. 

“Well, I only really offered a penny.” It’s meant to be a joke, but the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. 

If Derek was still the alpha he’d offer her the bite. Maybe he can break whatever deal he has with Peter and kill him again and then he’ll be alpha. He’s done it once, he’s sure he can do it again. His mind races with all the different ways he could do it. The molotov cocktail worked wonders, and he’s sure they can put together enough that everyone has enough ammunition. Maybe he could —

“Don’t even think about it.” Helen tells him, and now there’s a firmness in her voice as she takes him in. 

Derek’s lips part, but before he can reply, she cuts him off again. “We’re not going to go and find Peter. I’m not getting the bite. We’ve discussed this. We’ll be doing this the human way. Okay?” 

There’s a determination in her eyes and it forces Derek to nod. Even though he knows the human way will fail. 

There’s a shriek coming from the water and John has Stiles at the waist, attempting to toss him into the ocean. 

“I don’t want them knowing that anything is wrong, you hear me? I can fight this by myself. They don’t need to know, unless…” she breaks off and her lips tighten slightly. Helen lets out a shaky breath and smiles at him. “It’s our little secret.” 

* * * * * 

Derek goes to bed, absolutely shattered. He’s only just about managed to pull off his clothes and climb into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. 

His head has barely hit the pillow before the door opens a bit and Stiles’s head pokes in, looking at him for a second before he slips through the door and closes it behind him, running over to the bed in the dark as if he’s afraid some monster will bite his feet off if he doesn’t move fast enough, and hopping onto the bed in one fluid motion. 

Before Derek can ask what the hell is going on, Stiles has managed to climb under the covers, turning his back to Derek and snuggling against him as if it’s normal that he’s the little spoon. 

“I don’t know how I feel about being a teenager.” Stiles says into the dark and Derek gives him a slight harumph and tries to edge away from him, but Stiles follows. 

He wonders if this is normal, if Stiles comes into his room from time to time and just climbs into bed. It doesn’t feel weird, but it certainly doesn’t feel like it’s something that Derek is used to either. 

“Tomorrow,” Stiles says, his voice heavy with sleep already as he yawns, “Tomorrow we’ll go and you’ll teach me how to play lacrosse.” 

“Alright.” 

“That’s ought to make Lydia Martin fall hopelessly in love with me, right?”


End file.
